


Lights, snow and mistletoe

by LakeGirl



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: 12 Days of Temeraire, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Missing Scene, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:54:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeGirl/pseuds/LakeGirl
Summary: Drabbles for the prompt by The Dragon Deck: 12 days of Temeraire. (Okay, they got longer and longer and the last one is actually like ten drabbles.)Day 1: Lights and TharkayDay 2: Iskieka, Granby and snowDay 3: Emily and mistletoeDay 4: Temeraire, Laurence and Granby at Loch LogganDay 5: Tharkay and starsDay 6: Laurence, Granby, Tharkay and presentsDays 7+8: Emily, Mrs. Pemberton, hot cocoa and familyDays 9-12: Fire, food, joy and love, post-canon on Tharkay's estate





	1. Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Set Just before _Empire of Ivory_ p. 20, where Tharkay offers Laurence his cup of requisitioned tea.

In the cathedral square, neither dragon nor man stirred as Tharkay pushed open the door to a likely-looking house. It was decorated for mid-winter with sweet-smelling evergreen boughs. Christmas candles stood unburned on the front window sills; apparently the owners had overlooked the seasonal teaching of welcome, as they fled the previous evening's draconic descent.

A memory surfaced -- a menorah blazing proudly in the Madens' front window, the night he first arrived in Istanbul and they opened their house to him.

He exhaled carefully, then went softly toward the the kitchen, in search of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Temeraire Christmas! Bring on the carols, the decorations, the presents...! But wait: "At the beginning of the 1800s, [Christmas was hardly celebrated in Britain](http://www.thesocialhistorian.com/old-time-christmas/), with many business remaining open that day. ... People went about their normal business." 
> 
> Gah. Okay, let’s see what I can do with this...
> 
> (Why do I care so much about historical accuracy when...*dragons*? Sigh.)
> 
> Wealthy Scots at this time would have at least set candles in the windows, thank goodness, to light the way as Joseph and Mary searched for an inn.


	2. Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of 12 days of Temeraire, prompt by The Dragon Deck. Set at the beginning of _Empire of Ivory_.

Granby was grateful to find Iskierka still sleeping soundly when he peeked into her clearing. He indulged in a fond smile at the small mountain of steamy warmth, surrounded by several inches of snow that had settled overnight. 

Then he turned quickly to the officers' club, hoping a full breakfast would fortify him for the day's battle: Iskierka was meant to be fitted for her harness, and he had no notion of how they would manage. 

He had just reached the steps when a commotion exploded, and he was quite certain in which clearing. Sprinting back, he could hear: "-- do not care in the least what it _is_ , only it must go away! It is cold and it is wet and it has no business in _my_ clearing!" 

Said clearing was now a wholy muddy mess, and smelled of charred wood; the trees around it were badly singed. Lieutenant Lithgow, who had had the misfortune to arrive first, noticed his approach, and urgently directed the irate dragon's attention his way. 

"Dearest, it is winter," he began weakly, trudging into the muck. "So we have snow instead of rain -- it is...it is quite a bit nicer! That is, when it is still snow, it stays put, rather than pooling into puddles...oh, Lord."


	3. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of 12 days of Temeraire, prompt from The Dragon Deck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during _Victory of Eagles_ , when the armed forces had retreated to Scotland at Christmastime.

"Why is Roland thrashing that midwingman?" Temeraire asked. "Ought we not help him?"

"Well, she had to kiss him," Allen said, with a tone that Temeraire could not decipher.

"That does not make sense – if she can thrash him, why would she have to kiss him?" said Temeraire. But if Roland had indeed been wronged, she was part of his crew, so even if did not make sense: "Ought we to help _her_ , then?"

"No, no, it was on account of the mistletoe," Fellowes broke in. At Temeraire's puzzled look, he continued.

"This time of year, the servants hang little sprigs of it around the covert, for a bit of fun. Your cap-- er, Mr. Laurence would say it's nonsense, but people here say if you're under one, and someone wants to kiss you, it's terrible luck to refuse.

"He's been wanting to kiss her, but knew she wouldn't have any of it, if he asked her direct. So he caught her under a mistletoe." Ferris paused. "Like as not, he did not consider what could happen, after."

"There, she's blacked his eye, I bet she'll stop now," Allen said. Sure enough, Emily gave a final shove and stalked off. 

Temeraire regarded the bruised midwingman. "How is kissing so wonderful that it is worth risking a black eye, and at the same time so awful that it's worth _giving_ a black eye?"

Allen looked at Fellowes, and Fellowes shook his head: "Mr. Laurence can explain it to you proper, I'm sure." Temeraire was not at all sure of that, but resolved to ask in any case.


	4. Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking the prompts out of order...easier for you and me both if I keep it chronological! This one is set during _Victory of Eagles_ , around p. 253, on the retreat to Scotland, stopping at Loch Loggan.

Temeraire had cleaned himself off as best he could, rolling in the snow like a dog. He declined Laurence's help scrubbing -- "I am sure your hands should not be white like that, and you are beginning to shiver; anyway, I am quite a bit cleaner already" -- and nudged him towards shelter.

So Laurence took himself to the baths, regretting greatly that Temeraire had no such comfort, not in Britain. At least there were warm stones to lie on, though Laurence could not help but feel a pang for the smaller dragons whom he would surely displace. 

Laurence kept his head down in the antechamber, not knowing who might object to his presence, then found a deserted corner of the pool. He let the warm water work on his frozen extremities. 

He looked up in apprehension as someone approached, but it was only Granby, looking every bit as desolate as Laurence felt.

"Not a word," he said firmly, easing into the pool beside him. "We are _not_ fretting about being captains of the two most unmanageable dragons in Christendom." (Laurence frowned at "captain" but did not correct him: the spirit was apt, in any case.) "For just this moment, we are simply enjoying the baths. "

Granby sank a bit deeper and closed his eyes, pale skin beginning to pink from the heat. 

Laurence sighed. "Happy Christmas, John."


	5. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between _Victory of Eagles_ and _Tongues of Serpents_ , in December of 1808.

Tharkay stood at the rail under the sun, thinking for the thousandth time how much he preferred nighttime on this cursed boat. (He eschewed the proper terms "ship" or "transport" for the petty pleasure of seeing Laurence wince, followed by Granby rolling his eyes, at Tharkay for baiting Laurence or at Laurence for letting him succeed, he was never certain.)

At night, he could almost imagine they weren't surrounded by hundreds of miles of empty ocean. And on clear nights, he could could study the stars. Stars had never been his primary navigation aid, and the southern skies were new to him in any case, so he had much to learn. The knowledge might prove important: his search could lead anywhere in Australia, and he had no reason to think he might find adequate maps.

Studying celestial navigation also had the benefit of engaging both Laurence and Temeraire. Some evenings, Temeraire could coax Laurence into sharing stories from his naval voyages. All the more pity that nights were so short now, just shy of the upside-down solstice.

Three, maybe two days till landfall, if the winds held. And if the gods were kind, the nights would be clear.


	6. Presents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during _Tongues of Serpents_ , on the trip back across the continent to Sydney.

They settled in the paltry shade of a cluster of bushes, for water and rest. Granby sprawled beside Laurence on a large flat rock, his mood light, as they were making almost twice the speed of the journey out.

Tharkay, having finished his survey of their surroundings, joined them as well, bearing a handful of curious berries, very pale yellow.

"Happy New Year," he said, handing a stem to each of them. Laurence took it, recalling vaguely a Scottish tradition of gifts at the new year.

"It's the new year already?" asked Granby, whose log-keeping could hardly be described as diligent.

"Indeed," said Laurence, "It's 1810; we've been a year on this continent already." He did not linger on the fact that for him and Temeraire, it was only the first of many years. He looked at the small fruit, unsure of whether to peel it.

"Passion berries," Tharkay explained, popping one in his mouth. "The plants are everywhere, but the ripe fruits have been stripped, I suppose by the tribes or the bunyips. Perhaps, now that our attention is not on the search, we'll find more."

Laurence followed his example and found the fruit creamy and sweet. "Thank you, Tenzing. Happy new year — may it be uneventful." 


	7. Hot chocolate and family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Combined two prompts. Set in the winter of 1813, during _League of Dragons_ , while Laurence and Temeraire are chasing after the egg. Happily, [they did have cocoa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hot_chocolate#European_adaptation).

Emily entered the tent to find Mrs. Pemberton writing at the camp table, a kettle still steaming next to her.

"Good evening, Emily, I'm happy you're back; I was afraid the water might cool before you arrived." She rose and poured water into two prepared cups, and a delicious scent filled the space.

"I thought we should have a New Year's treat, and it seems that chocolate is a rarity in the Corps."

Emily bristled — she would not be treated as a disadvantaged child, and was disappointed that Mrs. Pemberton had fallen back into that misconception. She said coldly: "It is rare on campaign, certainly, but we have it at the coverts." (This was true, though it was not commonplace, even before the inavsion.)

Mrs. Pemberton's face tightened. "I see."

Emily immediately felt a cad: the chocolate was delicious, and now that she considered, it was spiced in the Incan way — Mrs. Pemberton must have carried the paste all the way from South America.

She wasn't about to apologize, but she resolved to be nicer: "Of course, this is only the second time that someone has made it just for me." Mrs. Pemberton's face unfroze just a bit, so she continued, "And the spices are different from what one gets in Britain. It's quite a wonderful surprise, very kind of you."

Mrs. Pemberton seemed to accept the peace offering and said, "It must have been a special occasion, the other time someone made a cup for you."

Emily recognized this as the kind of thing that people with manners said instead of asking questions, so she answered, "I was about ten, and Mother had just left for battle. I was quite upset, even though I knew she and Excidium would be perfectly safe. Captain Laurence found me, and made me a cup to help me settle." She savored another sip and continued, "I was quite ashamed to be caught crying, but he told me that when he first joined the navy, he blubbered for a week. I didn't believe him then, but now I suppose he was telling the truth."

"That was quite kind of him to look after you," Mrs. Pemberton answered. "It must have helped him know what to say, that he had also left home as such a tender age."

"Oh, but it is not the same at all — " Emily protested. "I have never left home!"

Mrs. Pemberton laughed. "I suppose you consider anywhere near a dragon to be home?"

"I am an aviator, after all."

"You were separated from your mother, and had no other family with you. That would be difficult for any child."

"Many of us were," Emily said, reminding herself again that Mrs. Pemberton meant to be nice. "And we managed better than many families I hear about."


	8. Fire, joy, food and love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knocked out the remaining prompts in one mad dash!
> 
> Set post-canon in the winter of 1813, the first that Laurence and Temeraire spend at Tharkay's estate. The lyrics to "Joy to the World" were written several decades before this, though it's not clear when they started being sung to the tune we know today.

At breakfast, Laurence broached the idea of attending a Christmas service. Tharkay's expression, while not at all enthusiastic, was milder than he might have expected, so he forged ahead with his reasoning.

"We are burning a Yule log, after all," an argument that they would have won if it had merely been the servants hinting at the good fortune it would bring, as neither he nor Tharkay subscribed to that type of superstition.

But Temeraire had caught wind of the conversation, and once his interest was engaged, it was just as well that he and the staff could not agree whether an outdoor firepit would fulfill the tradition, as Temeraire was eyeing some of the property's larger trees. ("If burning a large log brings luck, does it not stand to reason that burning a larger log brings _more_ luck?") Tharkay took the opportunity to suggest that perhaps finding a particularly fat log for the Christmas Eve hearth was not such a terrible thing, and Laurence was forced to agree.

Temeraire, convinced to merely watch through the windows, was not impressed with the size of the log, for all that it had taken three men to get it indoors. Laurence was certain that next Yuletide would include a far more dramatic fire, one he hoped that the pavilion could safely accommodate. 

"And we are having a Christmas feast," he continued: the smell of roasting turkey had been in evidence since before dawn. "So it seems fitting to pay respects at church as well. You would of course not be obliged to attend," he hastened to add, because creating a sense of obligation was likely to have the opposite effect, "but your company would be most welcome."

"My absence would support claims that a tool of the devil, or at least a heathen, is installed on this estate," Tharkay observed, and Laurence thought the matter decided.

"But perhaps it would be better to go," he continued thoughtfully.

Laurence silently asked forgiveness for whatever might ensue. "The morning service, then?" he suggested, hoping it would be less well-attended.

~*~

As they bundled themselves against the cold, Laurence tried to hide his anxiety, but Tharkay, unsurprisingly, recognized his nerves. 

"Will, you are being ridiculous. I was raised and confirmed in this parish, and did not embarrass my father more than any other restless boy forced to sit for services," he said. "I will sit and kneel properly, and might even manage a Christmas hymn if the spirit moves me."

His tone grew lighter: "And if you are concerned for my safety, while I do not consult God in the way we were taught, I am grateful enough for everything I have that I believe Him unlikely to strike me down at the threshold."

Laurence smiled at this. "Of course, Tenzing, forgive me. I am certain we will enjoy the service."

And it was just as Tharkay said, when they slipped in just before the service began. While he did not say any of the prayers or responses, he stood, kneeled and bowed his head as called for, drawing no attention beyond what his mere presence naturally attracted. His attention was sharpest during the hymns, and during the second set, Laurence thought he heard Tharkay humming along. 

When the final set of hymns began with "Joy to the World," there was no no mistaking it. Tharkay was humming easily, first the melody, and then a complementary baritone line that Laurence did not think was printed in the hymnal. He could not help but turn to see: Tharkay looked relaxed and focused, just as he did while sharpening his knives.

A suspicion took form in his mind, and during the interlude, Laurence risked a near-silent whisper: "Tenzing...were you a _choirboy_?"

Tharkay gave him a chastising look — conversing during a hymn, indeed — tossed off a transitional phrase that Laurence thought qualified as contrapuntal, and launched into the next verse, his hum a bit more bold. 

~*~

In the fading light, Laurence sat with Temeraire, who had lately downed eight large turkeys and a prodigious amount of pudding. The turkey on which Laurence and Tharkay had made barely-visible progress was packed off with the servants who had local families, that they might have their own Christmas feast.

Tharkay often joined them for their evening reading, but as he had little interest in their latest choice of novel, he had volunteered to remain in the house and tend the Yule log, which looked fair to burn another two days. Temeraire had lasted only a few paragraphs before dozing off, so Laurence prepared to rejoin him in front of the hearth. 

He stroked the sleeping dragon's nose for a moment, heart full of feeling. Pride, love and gratitude swirled together: that Temeraire's wartime service had been rewarded with opportunity to advance his political goals; that Tharkay's patrimony was restored and that he had felt such friendship as to open his home to them. (The man continued to surprise and delight Laurence; though he had refused to reveal a thing about his choirboy past, Laurence had gathered from small talk after the service that a prominent elder of the church had supported his lawsuit.) And most of all, that this all had unfolded on British soil, fulfilling a deep longing for the land he loved: he had always feared it would be incompatible with Temeraire's dreams.

It was more than anyone had a right to hope for, and as Laurence headed inside, he thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps burning a Yule log for continued good luck was not, after all, entirely amiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me through this challenge, and thanks to [The Dragon Deck](http://thedragondeck.tumblr.com/) for issuing it. 
> 
> Happy new year!


End file.
